


World Enough and Time

by orphan_account



Category: lotr - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Amon Hen, the past and the future collide</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Enough and Time

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the SG1 episode "Forever in a Day". The time and place jump around, but I hope it's easy enough to follow it.

_Had we but world enough and time. . ._  
\-- Andrew Marvel

His hands curled into blood soaked hair, laying himself down against the fallen man, his mind trying to deny the truth of the arrows piercing the strong body. Words of reassurance fell from his lips, desperate to hold back the fate that could not be evaded.

Promises made, oaths given, time too short slipping through his fingers. Never enough, forever itself would never be enough.

"I would have followed you . . . my brother . . . my captain . . . my King."

Light dying in green eyes, sunstruck, already focused beyond him. One last kiss, given in grief, in agony of a soul sundered from its mate, placed on the forehead of his lover before his spirit had quite left. A flash of light and pain, and Aragorn swooned, the ties of consciousness slipping loose.

_When he opened his eyes, Boromir lay beside him, his eyes full of concern as his hands stroked through Aragorn's hair. _

_"What . . . " his voice was confused, hesitant, denying the warm body next to his. They were still lying together in the small glade on the slopes of Amon Hen, but there was no echo of battle, no heavy tramp of Uruk Hai trailing destruction behind them. The brilliantly colored turning leaves rustled in the breeze and the sun shone, undiminished, it seemed, by sorrow._

_And Boromir . . . he was no longer clad in stained traveling clothes, but simpler garments, and no arrows stood out from his chest. _

_"You were . . . " Aragorn began again, but failed in the face of the smile on Boromir's face._

_"I was indeed. But if my kisses can take your senses so, perhaps I should ration them." But there was worry in his eyes that belied his light words. _

_"What happened?"_

_"Game was scarce this trip, so I proposed a different diversion, to which you seemed agreeable, but then you fainted."_

_Aragorn looked again at their rainment and it was true that they were both clad as though they were on a simple hunting trip, that no war or chaos threatened them. Was it a dream then, Boromir dying under him? He shook of his melancholy and smiled with lustful intent at his lover._

_"I feel fine now."_

_Boromir returned his smirk and his Steward's clever fingers soon separated them both from their clothing. Their hands were rough on each other, urgency overtaking them, and Aragorn filled his fingers with Boromir's cock, stroking his lover until pleading words fell from the blonde man's mouth. Aragorn grappled for the small pot of unguent that he kept in good supply, slicking fingers and opening his lover. When he was ready, Boromir gripped his shoulders and Aragorn slid into the tight and familiar heat._

_They moved together, falling into a rhythm long established that brought them both to their crises, sweat soaking them and muscles trembling._

_His orgasm hovered on the very brink while Aragorn strove to stave it off, but Boromir looked at him and whispered, "Please, save my people."_

_Ecstasy burst out of his body in a blinding flash._

The body of his slain lover carried to the remaining boat, arranged carefully, while his companions disposed Boromir's gear and his enemies' weapons about him.

The River of Gondor took up her lost son, bearing the Elven boat away to the Falls; there it was lost amid the tumult and the mist of plunging water. A white light streaked across Aragorn's vision and darkness whelmed him.

_He rolled over lazily in their bed, the sleeping furs having slipped down his torso, leaving him nearly uncovered. The breeze coming from the open window was soft with the scent of spring. He heard noises coming from the adjacent bathing chamber, splashes and muttering, and deduced the location of his lover._

_Far below their tower, silver trumpets greeted the dawning of the new day as the sun broke over the mountains. _

_Boromir walked into the room, the new born sun gilded the droplets of water still clinging to his golden skin. Aragorn sucked in a wondering breath at the beauty of the man who shared his bed and his life._

_Hearing the small noise, Boromir gazed at him, even as Aragorn propped himself on an elbow, his leg tangled with the linens to nudge them further from him. Boromir's eyes narrowed, following the progress of the covering as the King's treasures were revealed._

_The Steward dropped the tunic he had selected and stalked towards the bed. _

_"You would tempt the most resolute of men, the most steadfast ascetic," he said, his voice a low growl that did nothing to quell the want surging through Aragorn's loins. _

_Aragorn lay down, pushing the rest of the furs away, spreading his legs in wanton invitation to the only man in the Reunited Kingdoms to which he could allow himself to show any vulnerability. Boromir's rough mouth claimed his, even as Boromir's hard muscled legs parted his thighs. Aragorn surrendered completely, reveling in the power of the man moving inside his body, letting himself submit to the force of the love that ruled him._

_As they lay together in the aftermath, the breeze drying the sweat dotting their skin, Aragorn caught Boromir's lips with his own, whispering into his lover's mouth, "I love you forever."_

_Boromir murmured, "Do not let the White City fall."_

_Light flared against Aragorn's inward sight._

Hands tightened on his sword while the White Wizard stalked them. Sword drawn in anger and grief of betrayal, but halted as Gandalf returned to them.

"I come to you at the turn of the tide."

Another task, and no rest for a heart slowly breaking from the weight of loss. The old King was healed and flaring light from the wizard's staff took Aragorn's senses.

_They rode away from the Brandywine Bridge, their spirits lifted and all worries lessened by the sight of their dear friends. The company rode lightly, to escort the King to his summertime court at Fornost. Boromir's laugh was irresistible, his humor contagious, and Aragorn was glad to be riding through the warm sunlight, accompanied by his lover and the Hobbits once again. Their small friends had grown in stature among their kind, and were full of the easy grace of settled and content people._

_The palace at Norbury welcomed them and if the feasting that night was accompanied by rowdy Hobbit songs, then none of the nobles remarked it, having become used to the King's varied friends. Wine flowed as did the tales and the dancing, and Aragorn was happier than he could ever remember._

_He had consumed perhaps too much wine, but Boromir was there, lending him a strong arm and giving him a teasing glance. They staggered to their rooms and Aragorn lay still as his lover efficiently stripped him. His head was spinning from the draughts, but he held his arms out, wanting Boromir beside him in the bed. The blonde man quickly shed his own clothes, and curled up in Aragorn's arms._

_"I doubt you can manage it tonight; you should know better than to try to match those Hobbits," he chuckled, hands threading through Aragorn's lightly silvered hair. "If you have no sore head come morning, we'll satisfy our lusts for sweeter drink."_

_Aragorn sighed as the long fingers soothed the whirling in his head. "Never leave me," he begged softly._

_"Don't let the darkness conquer."_

_The familiar flash of light came again, and Aragorn knew no more._

Riding at the head of a column of desperate Men, he led the Captains of the West to confront evil beyond their imagining on the tenuous hope of the courage of a little Hobbit. A diversion, bait, their chances of survival slim, though no one said the words.

Mighty companions went with him though, a Dwarf from the Lonely Mountain, an Elf Prince of Mirkwood, a brave Hobbit, the newly crowned King of the Riddermark, and a powerful wizard. A chance indeed.

The Black Gates opened and the world went dark_._

_The fire was warm and they lay together in front of it, their bones soaking in the gentle heat, to beat back the cold grasp of winter. The hair beneath Aragorn's fingers had long ago faded from bright gold to silver-gilt, and their bodies were not as strong as they once were. But their love held true for long years almost beyond count, and Aragorn silently blessed the fate that kept his lover by his side all that time._

_Even now, Boromir's mouth nuzzled his neck, making his aged flesh rise in response to the attentions of his lover and Aragorn could not help but smile at Boromir's unflagging desire for his body, no matter how the cruel march of time may have stolen his vitality._

_Their loving was slow, each piece of clothing removed with patience, long lingering kisses as their bodies were thus revealed. Aragorn's eyes did not see the ravages of age on Boromir's body, only the sight of the man he loved with everything that he was._

_They moved together slowly, cocks rubbing together, bodies moving in tune the ancient dance that they had perfected long years before, in a different age of the world. They cried out together as their release spilled over their stomachs, warmth between them._

_Aragorn pulled Boromir close, resting his face against hair that was still silky. But Boromir stirred._

_"Much as I would like to stay here with you in front of our fire, my bones will not thank me come morning. To bed with you."_

_Laughing, Aragorn allowed himself to be pulled up, and they reached for the cloths to clean themselves before they settled into the bed piled with pillows. Their bodies tangled together and Aragorn stared into the slowly dying fire thinking about what had been and what would be._

_"Boromir . . .promise you will wait for me?"_

_But Boromir replied, "Become the King you were meant to be."_

_The light flared out and though Aragorn desperately tried stay, he was taken away._

Kneeling before Gandalf, the pearls of the crown of the Sea Kings caught the sunlight, spreading out like the rippling notes of a song. The crown settled on his head, along with it the weight of two kingdoms and a world in need of healing. But his promises held him, given in love to a dead man.

He faced his people, throat full of words that could never be said. The roar of blessing from the assemblage as he faced them eased him, and as blossoms drifted past his sight, he had a vision of a man, a warrior of Gondor with a smile like the sunshine, turning to give him one last wink before walking away.

The light increased suddenly, then died away.

 

***********

 

His lips were still pressed to Boromir's forehead when Legolas's hand touched his shoulder gently, concern writ plain on his ageless face.

"Alas! I fear you have taken some deadly hurt."

Aragorn roused himself, reluctant to release his hold on the body of his lover. "No. Boromir is slain and the Hobbits taken while I was away on the hill."

He sat up, smoothing back the fair hair from the noble forehead. He worked the arrows out, gently, tenderly, not willing to do more harm to the body already dead.

When he was finished, tears streaked the dirt of his face, and he said softly, "They will look for him from the White Tower, but he will not return."

"And has the quest come to ruin?" the Dwarf asked.

"No," Aragorn replied, firmly. "No. We will rescue the Hobbits, and then turn for Gondor. The time has come for the Heir of Isildur to stop walking in the shadows. Gondor needs a King."

Both Elf and Dwarf looked on him with approval, but Aragorn heard in his mind his lover rejoicing. Boromir approved and nothing else mattered.

 

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